


To the Sound of the Beat

by amamini



Series: Fics That Got Left in the Bentley [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 80's Music, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, MLM/bi solidarity, Michael Sheen if you're reading this I love you, Multi, Period-Typical Homophobia, Podfic Welcome, Queen (Band) References, Queen - Freeform, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Song: Another One Bites The Dust, and if you're not reading it, angels don't have a gender but they're gay nonetheless, based more on the song's vibe than its lyrics, crowley likes being a snake sometimes, for like half a scene jfdkls, gay disasters meet other gay disasters, internalized bi/homophobia, they go to a gay nightclub, you inspired me to start writing again so thanks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 14:10:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20065318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amamini/pseuds/amamini
Summary: “I’ve figured out a way that we can send memos back to our respective head offices, and - get this - get completely piss drunk while doing it.”Aziraphale blinked. “I don’t think I follow.”“Clubbing!” Crowley threw his hands in the air, half in disbelief of the angel’s lack of enthusiasm and half in celebration of his own genius. “Let’s go to a nightclub!”In which Crowley and Aziraphale go to a nightclub and realize that they aren't so different than the humans they interact with.





	To the Sound of the Beat

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I did do a lot of research on the time period and the club referenced, but that doesn't make my portrayal of it in any way accurate. So please enjoy the artistic interpretation of what a gay night club in 80's England was written by a teen in 2019 America.

** _London, 1984_ **

“Angel, I’ve done it,” Crowley announced, pushing open the doors to the bookshop and strolling inside like a man on a mission. Aziraphale, who was standing on a ladder, shelving new books, turned to him with a start.

“Good heavens,” he sighed, “what is it you’ve done now?”

Crowley stuck his hands on his hips and looked up at him. “It’s a new development,” he said, looking at Aziraphale over the top of his sunglasses, “in our _ Arrangement _. I’ve come up with a brand-new, up-to-date, and better-than-ever scheme that can benefit the both of us.”

“Well I don’t know if I like the word _ scheme _ .” Aziraphale, after six thousand years in the demon’s company, could admit that he was cooperating with his so-called hereditary enemy, but he worried every day that one little word or phrase would get back to Gabriel and they’d both be found out. “I’d rather prefer if you came up with a _ plan _ or a _ proposal _ . That sounds much less… well, much _ more _ pleasant.” 

“Fine then.” Crowley rolled his eyes, “I have a _ proposal _ to make.”

Aziraphale climbed down from the ladder and dusted his coat, saying, “I’m listening.”

“I’ve figured out a way that we can send memos back to our respective head offices - me doing some casual temptations and you doing, well I don’t know, Holy stuff - and - get this - get completely piss drunk while doing it.”

Aziraphale blinked. “I don’t think I follow.”

“Clubbing!” Crowley threw his hands in the air, half in disbelief of the angel’s lack of enthusiasm and half in celebration of his own genius. “Let’s go to a nightclub!”

“Ah, well,” Aziraphale took a step back, looking for a distraction, “I’m not sure what my side would think of me-”

“Come onnn, it’ll be so fun! Hastur’s been on my ass about my ‘unconventional demonic deeds’ and says I need to take a more direct approach, and I’m sure upstairs may be thinking the same for you.” Crowley gave Aziraphale a knowing glance. “When’s the last time you directly saved a soul from hell, huh? ‘Cause I can’t think of any notable progress from either of us since my renovation of the M-25.”

Aziraphale looked guiltily at the floor. “Well, I have been preoccupied with my shop, I guess I haven’t really had the time for much direct human interaction.” It was a pretty sorry excuse, seeing as whenever people wandered into the shop, he did his best to convince them to come back another time.

“So we’ll go clubbing! And I’ll find some ne’er-do-well who’s just dark-side enough to push over the edge, and I’m sure there’ll be some poor bastard at the bar whose soul could use a bit of your Holy Influence,” Crowley said, lacing the last two words with saccharine mockery. Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but Crowley could tell he wasn’t completely opposed to the plan. It really had been a while since either of them had ventured out into the world. Save for their customary dinners at the Ritz or their favorite sushi restaurant, the pair hadn’t gone out in search of something new in ages. “Come on, what have we got to lose? Let’s just try it tonight and see how it goes. Could be a flop, could be a game-changer.”

Aziraphale gave in. “Fine,” he said, raising his hands in surrender, “we ought to get out more anyway.” He had his worries - he couldn’t even begin to list them - but seeing the smile on Crowley’s face set him at ease.

“Hell yes,” he all-but hissed. “I already have a place all picked out. Oh but first, you’re gonna need some new clothes, I don’t think you’ll fit in with that old jacket.”

Before Aziraphale could protest, Crowley was dragging him along behind him, up the stairs toward his flat above the bookshop. He snapped, miracling the abandoned books onto their shelves. Tripping lightly on the steps, he muttered quietly, “What have I gotten myself into?”

** _Oh! Let's go!_ **

“_Really_, Crowley?” he sighed when they arrived at the club later that night.

Crowley smiled, feigning innocence. “What?”

“The club’s called _ Heaven _.” Aziraphale gestured to the metallic sign above the heavy wooden doors.

“And what about it?” Crowley said, turning off the car and slipping the keys into his pocket.

“It’s a bit… well it’s not in good taste for _ us _ to be going to a place called Heaven, is it?” 

Crowley snorted. “Easy for you to say, huh?”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant.” Aziraphale felt red embarrassment creeping up his neck. “I didn’t mean _ you _, dear, I just meant, well it seems very on-the-nose.”

“It’s the best gay nightclub on this side of the Atlantic,” Crowley said, opening the car door and hopping out. “Come on, angel.”

Stepping out of the Bentley, they could hear the bass of the music thumping steadily, and ever-changing colored light poured from the doors. Aziraphale suddenly felt very cold, and crossed his arms, missing his jacket. “And I don’t see why I had to change my outfit, I was perfectly comfortable.” 

Crowley gave him a once-over, taking in his appearance; it wasn’t so different from his day-to-day wear, just updated for the occasion. He kept his brown leather shoes, and Crowley talked him into a pair of white jeans and an obnoxious golden belt instead of his usual tan trousers. Aziraphale insisted on at least wearing a button-down shirt, and he had countered by turning the sleeves from cotton to mesh-like chiffon (“It looks good, I swear! And your skin needs to breathe, especially where we’re going.”). Aziraphale almost refused to leave the shop without a bow tie, but Crowley argued that he couldn’t even wear one if the shirt were to be half-unbuttoned, as was fashion (according to him, at least). The angel looked more or less the same, just a bit more exposed, a bit more relaxed.

“Wouldn’t want you to stand out,” Crowley said, looking away. “At least _ my _ clothes are from this century and decade.” He himself was wearing his usual black jeans and a casual blazer, along with a blood-red crop top that could only truly be described as “sinful”. He, of course, left his aviator sunglasses on, figuring that even at night nobody at the club would question him; besides, the alternative was a bit more difficult to explain. He realized after walking for a few steps that Aziraphale wasn’t next to him, and turned back to the car to see him nervously wringing his hands. “You good?” 

“I don’t have an ID,” he squeaked. “What if they don’t let us in? How old am I supposed to say I am?”

Crowley barked a laugh. “Aziraphale, I promise they won’t stop you at the door. You don’t look a day younger than six thousand.” 

Aziraphale gave him a doubtful glance, but crossed to him, striding towards the club full of false confidence. “Ha-ha. Well if we get in trouble for this, it’s your fault.”

“Of course,” Crowley said, sauntering behind him.

** _Steve walks warily down the street_ **

** _With the brim pulled way down low_ **

** _Ain't no sound but the sound of his feet_ **

** _Machine guns ready to go_ **

Crowley made himself at home on a barstool, his long legs dangling aimlessly. “This isn’t so bad, eh?” he remarked, scanning the crowd of moving bodies. 

“Nothing I didn’t expect, I suppose,” Aziraphale replied, clambering onto the stool next to Crowley’s. “Though some of these people ought to put a shirt on, they might catch a cold.”

Crowley chuckled. “You could always make sure that every person leaves this club in perfect health. You know,” he raised his eyebrows at the angel, “with your heavenly influences.”

“Maybe I just will. But like you said before, I think perhaps Head Office would prefer some more direct interaction.” 

Crowley handed him one of the drinks he had ordered. “Well, here’s to doing our jobs for once,” he said, raising his glass in a toast. Aziraphale smiled fondly and clinked his glass against Crowley’s before taking a sip. 

Looking around the room, he tried to tune into the individual energies of the humans around him, though he felt like his senses were dulled and muddled by the dizzying lights and pounding music. There must be one lost soul that he could lead down the right path, he just had to find them before Crowley did. He turned back to Crowley, who seemed to be casing the joint just as he was. Taking another sip of his drink, he asked, “So what exactly is your strategy, then? I’m not quite sure how you plan on securing a soul to Hell after a single interaction.”

“I’m thinking I might just go for a standard seduction.” Crowley missed the way this offhanded remark made Aziraphale choke on his drink for a moment. “It doesn’t actually do much in the ‘damning a soul to Hell’ department, but if I get someone to cheat on their spouse then that’s a major strike against them as far as your lot are concerned. You know, Thou-shalt-not-commit-adultery and all that jazz.”

“My dear boy!” Aziraphale set down his empty glass on the bar, staring wide-eyed at the demon. 

“Huh?” Crowley broke his careful watch of one man across the room to look at the angel. “Oh don’t look so scandalized. I do my job my way and you do yours your way.”

“My way isn’t going to ruin a marriage!” Aziraphale retorted. “Really, Crowley, couldn’t you do anything else? There must be someone truly evil in here that you could deliver just desserts to. You like doing that.”

Crowley sighed. “Believe me, I would. But I can’t feel any actual evil in here, can you?” Seeing the resigned look on the angel’s face, he stood up. “Look, this guy over there,” Crowley motioned with his head to a man with dark hair and a crappy beer at the opposite end of the room, “is giving me strong ‘trapped-in-a-loveless-marriage’ vibes, don’t you feel it? Maybe I’m going him a favor tonight in more ways than one.” And with an overly dramatic wink, Crowley turned and sauntered across the club. 

** _Are you ready, hey, are you ready for this?_ **

** _Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?_ **

** _Out of the doorway the bullets rip_ **

** _To the sound of the beat_ **

“Hey,” Crowley all-but purred, sidling up next to the man he had been eyeing. He miracled a band-aid into his palm and offered it to the man, who looked at him suspiciously. “Do you need this?”

“Why would I need a band-aid? Am I bleeding?” The man reached up to rub at this face self-consciously. 

“No no no,” Crowley said, drumming his fingertips on the back of the man’s hand. “I was just worried that you scraped your knee when you fell from heaven.” (Crowley swore he heard Aziraphale groan in disgust from across the club. The demon had been using this pickup line for years; in fact, he’s the one who had invented it.)

The man laughed, taking the band-aid from Crowley and slipping it into his pocket. “Well if I’m an angel then I guess you must be a demon,” he said, smirking. 

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up above his sunglasses. “Oh? And why’s that?” 

“Because that ass,” the man said, reaching to put a hand in Crowley’s back pocket, “is hot as hell.” 

Now it was Crowley’s turn to laugh at the awful pickup line. “I like the way you think,” he said, tracing the man’s jawline with one finger, and slowly trailing down his chest. “What did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t. It’s Luke.” He caught Crowley’s hand with his and intertwined their fingers. 

“Well hello, Luke, I’m Anthony.” Crowley pulled Luke closer so their chests were just a breath apart. “How about you and I get out of here, hmm? As good as this song is, I’d like to be able to hear the sounds you make when I-”

Luke cut him off with a messy kiss, and Crowley felt a hand come up to tangle in his hair. Crowley wrapped his arm around the small of Luke’s back, and allowed dirty thoughts to flow from his mind into the man’s. As he did, he felt a shift in Luke’s scent; it changed from mild interest to pure lust in an instant. When they separated, Luke hooked a finger in Crowley’s belt loop and pulled him towards the exit. “You got a car?” 

Crowley smiled, nodding. It was just so easy sometimes. As they passed the bar, he saw Aziraphale deep in conversation with a young woman, who was holding his hand in both of hers. She was obviously interested in him, and Crowley wondered if the angel knew this and was ignoring her advances, or if he was just that oblivious. Leave it to the angel to find the straight girl in the whole bar. 

** _Another one bites the dust_ **

** _Another one bites the dust_ **

** _And another one gone, and another one gone_ **

** _Another one bites the dust_ **

After Crowley wandered off to seduce the man across the room, Aziraphale found himself feeling very alone and very lost. Of course, the point of coming to the club was to get drunk and have a good time, but he realized that this would be nearly impossible without Crowley there at his side. It was funny, in a sad sort of way, how he always realized how much he loved the demon just as he lost his company. 

Turning to look at Crowley, Aziraphale read “I was just worried that you scraped your knee when you fell from heaven” on his lips. He scoffed, rolling his eyes so dramatically he worried they’d fall out of his head. Of all his demonic inventions, that pickup line had to be one of the worst. 

Without warning, the bartender set down a rum and coke in front of him. Before he could turn away, Aziraphale stuttered, “Oh, um, I’m dreadfully sorry, but I don’t believe I ordered this.”

“You didn’t,” the bartender grunted, pointing to the woman now sitting next to him. “She did.”

Aziraphale turned to her in surprise; he had been so caught up in thinking about Crowley that he didn’t even realize someone had taken his place at the bar. The woman had a smile full of dark lipstick and genuine kindness, and tired eyes that said _ ‘I need help but I refuse to ask for it’ _. Aziraphale realized almost immediately that this was the soul he was here to save. 

“Well I think a ‘thank you’ is in order then,” he said, smiling back at her. He offered her his hand. “I’m Aziraphale.”

She laughed, “I love that name, just give me a minute to pronounce it.” She shook his hand with a firm grip. “I’m Joanne.”

“Well, Joanne, to what do I owe the pleasure? And the alcohol?” Aziraphale noticed that she hadn’t let go of his hand, but was holding it now limply on the countertop. She ran her fingers over his knuckles. 

“Oh, you looked like you needed someone to talk to. I mean, I’m the same. My friends will take me to bars and insist that we wingman each other, but then they just run off when they find someone more interesting than me.” She looked back to where Crowley was at the other side of the room. “And it looks like your friend has done the same thing.”

“My friend?” Aziraphale followed her gaze to see Crowley snogging the man he had mentioned earlier. Well, a job is a job. “Oh, yes, him. He does that sometimes. I guess it isn’t so fun to be left alone at the bar.” 

“Well it looks like neither of us are alone now. That’s much better, wouldn’t you say?” Aziraphale nodded, not allowing his smile to falter. Surely this woman wasn’t _ interested _ in him? Crowley had mentioned that this club was a safe haven for individuals who were attracted to the same gender as themselves, and Aziraphale had chosen to present as traditionally male for quite some time. She must be looking for companionship. Nothing more or less than an ally to talk to until both of them could reunite with her own friends. 

“Of course, dear, always better to keep good company.” Aziraphale glanced back at Crowley, but found the spot against the wall was now deserted. He looked to the exit just in time to see Crowley sliding out the door, eagerly following the man. If he felt a pang of jealousy that was no one’s business; that would stay between him and God. 

** _Hey, I'm gonna get you, too_ **

** _Another one bites the dust_ **

Humans, Crowley had decided, were not the most remarkable of God’s creations. The thousands of choices made by humans were far more remarkable than humans themselves. Crowley decided this as Luke pressed him up against the Bentley, kissing his neck like his life depended on it. Although seduction wasn’t Crowley’s demonic activity of choice, he had to admit it came with certain perks that gluing valuable coins to the sidewalk did not. 

He fumbled in his pocket for his car key, eventually resolving to just miracle it into his hand. Once he managed to unlock the door, he pulled the man off him for just a second to hold it open. “After you,” he insisted, just slightly out of breath. 

Luke climbed in, pulling Crowley in by the lapels of his jacket, which he promptly started to tug off his shoulders. The car door slammed shut behind him, muffling all the noise of the club. The only sound was their own heavy breathing and the blood rushing in their ears. 

The Bentley did not have bench-style seats five seconds ago, but Crowley figured that the small change could make all the difference. Miracling away the cup holders and gear shift, he guided Luke down so that he was lying almost completely horizontally in the front seat. 

Crowley kissed Luke’s sharp collarbone and ran his hands over his abdomen, noting the way it made him shiver. He shifted, and it occurred to him to Make an Effort, as he could feel Luke’s own pressed against his thigh. He raised himself to eye level, stopping to look at the man through his dark glasses. “Are we doing this? Here and now? Or should I take you home first?”

Luke avoided Crowley’s face, running a hand through his hair and shrinking slightly into himself. _ Oh I know that look _ , Crowley thought, _ I’m going too fast. _

“Or we could just stop, that’s okay too,” Crowley reassured him as sincerely as was possible. Though it was Hell’s policy for temptations, he was beginning to feel guilty for putting sexual images into the man’s mind. He hadn’t asked for any of this. A one-night stand between humans was different than one with demon, but Luke was none the wiser. “We don’t have to take this any further.” 

“No, I…” Luke put his hand on the back of Crowley’s neck. “I want this, I really do.”

“Okay, all good with me, then.” Crowley leant back down to kiss him again, and felt the man’s fingers curling in his hair. He was gradually becoming more and more convinced that sexual temptations were completely reliant on the human involved. It was one thing to fill a person’s mind with images, but it was completely another for the person to _ want _ to bring them to life. The wanting was the key. 

He brought his hand up to cup the man’s face, running a thumb along his cheek. _ Kissing truly is bizarre, isn’t it? We’re just mashing our faces together, why does it feel so good? It’s so vulnerable. So wet. So salty. _

Wait, _ salty_?

Crowley pulled sharply away and looked at Luke, who suddenly had tears streaming down his face. “Woah woah woah, okay,” he said, disentangling himself from the pile of long limbs they had become. Luke inched away from him, wiping his eyes with his hands. Crowley, though he would never admit it outside the car, felt a wave of sympathy wash over him. Demons aren’t sympathetic. Demons don’t stop in the middle of a temptation to worry about their human counterpart. And demons _ certainly _ don’t try to comfort crying young men they had met only minutes before. 

Well, most demons, anyway. 

“Now I don’t kiss a lot of people,” Crowley said, reaching out to touch the man’s hands in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “But when I do and they start crying, I think I’ve done something wrong. Is that true?”

Luke shook his head, moving to a sitting position. He still avoided Crowley’s eyes, sighing, “No no, it’s not you. You’re fine. More than fine, really, you’re perfect.”

“Well, perfectly good-looking maybe,” Crowley said, trying to lighten the mood. Luke cracked a smile, so he counted it as a win. “So if it’s not me, then what’s going on? If I may be so impolite to ask.”

After an uncomfortably long silence, Luke finally looked to Crowley. “When did you know?”

The demon cocked his head to the side. “Know what?”

“That you um,” the man struggled to find the words, or maybe just to say them. “That you were gay?”

“Oh,” Crowley’s eyes widened. As much as he wanted to leap into an explanation of his life’s history and his lack of gender and therefore lack of sexuality by human standards, he really didn’t have the time. But of course, in his mind was one particular image of an angel, just rebellious enough to be interesting, just kind enough to take notice of him. “I met a guy. It was a long time ago, but you don’t forget a guy like him.” 

“Yeah, that’s how it happens isn’t it?” Luke shook his head again and looked out the window. “And how did your folks take it?”

“My family, you mean?” Luke nodded with his eyes full of something he was trying desperately to hold onto. “Well my lot don’t really know. But I know they wouldn’t be too happy if they found out about me and him. And um, his family wasn’t so keen on me either. I wanna say ‘hey, people change,’ but not people like them.”

Luke looked down at his hands, which he had folded in his lap. He could hardly keep the tremor out of his voice. “When I brought my boyfriend home for Christmas, they told me to never come back.”

Without even thinking about it, Crowley leaned across the distance between them and pulled Luke into a hug. He didn’t know what had possessed him until he felt the man’s arms wrapping around him in response, and felt sobs course through his body. When his shoulder was damp with tears, he realized why he reached out to hold this tiny, insignificant human. 

Because he wasn’t insignificant at all. Their stories were the same. Sure, Crowley’s lasted almost 6,000 years while the man’s was only a blip of a tiny human life. But here they were, two souls, cast out of their homes, trying desperately to prove they were worthy of love. They wouldn’t find the love they were searching for in each other. But they did find solace. They found sanctuary. Despite it all, a demon found a safe haven in an almost-broken man, and the man found comfort in the kindness of a demon.

Finally, Crowley pulled back from him, but still held on to his shoulders to keep him steady. He took off his sunglasses, and with a minor miracle, adjusted Luke’s perception just enough to mistake his eyes for human. “Listen to me, Luke. You don’t need them. I know as well as anyone that it hurts like hell. People can toss you right out of their lives for no reason at all. But that is _ their _ loss, okay? If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s that when they knock you down, the strongest thing you can do is to stand back up again. Damn them all, prove them wrong, and stand back up.” Crowley helped him wipe away the last of his tears, saying, “And you know what? Sometimes it’s easier to stand up if you have someone to help you.”

Luke was finally smiling a real, genuine smile. “Thanks for that. Really.”

“Hey, what are random guys you meet at a gay nightclub for?”

** _How do you think I'm gonna get along_ **

** _Without you when you're gone?_ **

** _You took me for everything that I had_ **

** _And kicked me out on my own_ **

“I just love your ring,” Joanne said, tracing Aziraphale’s little finger. “Where’d you get it?”

“Ah, thank you. It’s um, a family heirloom of sorts.” He hated to call Heaven his family, but it was the simple explanation he had resorted to when previously asked about the ring. “I think decorative gold can be a bit flashy sometimes, but they all seem to love it.”

Joanne nodded, taking in Aziraphale’s full outfit. “Is that belt a family thing too? It’s very cool.” 

“Oh this?” Aziraphale examined his belt for the first time, and noticed that the gold buckle was fashioned to look like a snake biting its tail, and the band of it was a deep saffron snakeskin. Curse Crowley and his bold fashion choices. “No no, this was given to me by a friend. I don’t usually dress this way, but he insisted that this is the sort of ensemble I need to fit in to a club like this.”

“A club like _ this _?” Joanne repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well nothing, really,” Aziraphale felt the conversation tumbling out of his comfort zone. “This is a lovely place really, it’s just…” he looked out again at the writhing bodies on the dance floor, moving in ways he could not imagine himself replicating. It was hardly the place for a gavotte. “Not really my scene, I suppose.”

“I totally know what you mean,” Joanne replied, and took a sip of her rum and coke. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love women. I’d marry a woman in a heartbeat if it was legal. But I don’t think that this is the place to meet her, you know? Too loud.”

Aziraphale nodded, sighing, “It really is a shame.” 

“What, the music?”

“Oh no, it’s fine. Though it does hurt your ears after a while,” he said. “But what I meant was it’s a shame you not being able to marry a woman.”

Joanne huffed a humorless laugh. “Yup, I’ll drink to that.”

“I mean, it’s all rather ridiculous. Just one mistranslated or misinterpreted Bible verse and you’re all suddenly criminalizing each other for love. I don’t see why you can’t just live and let live. That’s what I think She wants, anyway, for all Her creations to live in harmony.” 

Aziraphale realized he had been rambling when he saw Joanne’s face; it was equal parts admiration, agreement, and fascination. “Did you just use female pronouns for God?”

He had forgotten that that wasn’t commonplace on Earth. “Oh, I suppose I did. Force of-”

But his words were swallowed as Joanne surged up to kiss him, and Aziraphale was left speechless. He froze in his seat. What was he supposed to do now? Hold her? Push her away? Ask her politely just what was going on?

Luckily, he wasn’t able to spend too much time panicking, as she pulled away, looking as confused as he felt. He furrowed his brow, saying, “I thought you preferred women?”

“I thought you did,” she said, as if it was obvious. Then her eyebrows shot up and she started apologizing profusely. “Shoot, I’m so sorry, are you married? God I’m an idiot, I should’ve asked, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, my dear, don’t you worry,” Aziraphale said, catching her hands and holding them to reassure her. “I promise I am not married, you’re fine. You just took me by surprise, that’s all. I thought this was a gay and lesbian club? And that you fell under the latter label?”

Joanne’s gaze fell to the floor. “Well, I guess that’s the problem, huh? Everyone here is gay or lesbian. No place for a bisexual like me.”

“Oh, my sincere apologies, dear. I forgot that label even existed.” He miracled a tissue into his hand as he saw her eyes begin to water. Glancing around, he created a protective bubble around them, so that their conversation would not be overheard and the music would be muffled somewhat. She seemed a bit more at ease, though not entirely aware of the change. 

“God, I hate labels. You have to have one, but no matter which one you pick it’s wrong.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and Aziraphale offered her the tissue. 

“Now who told you that? That’s rather unkind.”

Joanne sighed deeply. “Nobody ever had to tell me, it’s just how it goes. I start dating a woman, and the whole world is against us. I date a man, and suddenly I no longer fit in at clubs like this, the only place I could be myself during my last relationship. I date a woman again, but now I’m somehow tainted for having dated a man before her. I just can’t win.”

“Ah, I see,” Aziraphale said. And he really did. “I think I can relate to you, in some respects.”

“Really?” she looked at him with hopeful eyes. 

“Well, the whole problem of ‘choosing a side’. Or rather, not wanting to choose a side. See, there’s this friend I have who, between you and me, I would love more than anything to ‘date’, as you say. But if my family were to find out about the two of us even being friends, I don’t know if we’d survive it. Then again, if I left him to show allegiance to my family, then I would lose his love, and that means everything to me. It’s a real catch-22, and we seem to be stuck in the middle.” 

Joanne nodded, appreciating the effort he had made to relate to her. “Damned if we do, and damned if we don’t.”

“I don’t know about _ ‘damned’ _,” he said. Humans just threw around any old words to express misfortune. “Though sometimes it really feels like a fall from grace, doesn’t it?”

** _Are you happy, are you satisfied?_ **

** _How long can you stand the heat?_ **

** _Out of the doorway the bullets rip_ **

** _To the sound of the beat_ **

“You know the first thing I did, when I got kicked out of my home?” Crowley asked, with a removed air that bordered on cold. “I mean, after I was done crying and convincing myself that I deserved better.”

Luke looked at him with tired eyes. “What’s that?”

“I invented alcohol.” 

The man huffed a laugh. “Yeah, right. How’d you do that then? You made it in your bathtub like some 1920’s bootlegger?”

Crowley shrugged. “Something like that. I ended up living in this huge garden, plenty of fruit just waiting around to be plucked and fermented.”

“What public garden has fruit trees you can just steal from?” Luke was just as entertained by the story as Crowley hoped he’d be. 

“Listen, the fruit isn’t the point. Though I would encourage you to steal whatever fruit you want as often as you can, stick it to the man.” Old habits die hard. He turned to fully face Luke. “The point is that you have to use what you get stuck with and make it something better. Surrounded by grape vines planted by those that cast you out? Make wine.”

Luke nodded sagely. “So you’re saying I should become an alcoholic.”

Crowley blanched, “Ngk, no I’m-”

Luke laughed, and Crowley felt something like hope. “I’m just kidding, dude. I hear what you’re saying. And I’m really trying to. It’s just hard. I think my problem is I go looking for self-worth in relationships that end up meaningless.” He looked at Crowley, “No offense, dude.”

Crowley smiled. “None taken, I swear. Totally okay if you don’t remember me in the morning.” (He wouldn’t. Hell’s policy, not his.)

“I think I just need a real friend.” He looked out the window as if the street outside held his answer. “I mean yeah, ideally someday I find the man of my dreams and we ride off into the sunset. But right now I think I just need a friend.”

“I feel that one.” Crowley sighed. Here he was, sympathizing with a human, not at all doing his job. “Hey, what’s your favorite drink?”

"Diet Coke,” Luke said, raising an eyebrow. 

“Well, you’re lucky,” Crowley turned around and pretended to fumble in the backseat. When he turned back to Luke, he had a can of Diet Coke in each hand. “I always keep emergency drinks on hand just in case.” Passing one to the astonished human, he raised the other in a toast. “Here’s to trying.”

Luke chuckled, “To trying,” and clinked his can against Crowley’s. 

** _There are plenty of ways that you can hurt a man_ **

** _And bring him to the ground_ **

** _You can beat him, you can cheat him_ **

** _You can treat him bad and leave him when he's down_ **

“I’m sorry again for kissing you, I really shouldn’t have assumed like that,” Joanne said for the hundredth time. 

“It’s alright, dear heart.” Aziraphale rested his hand on hers, willing the guilt inside her to wash away. She brightened a bit, but he could still read sorrow in her eyes. “Are you alright? You look a little under the weather.”

She shrugged noncommittally. “Just tired, I think.”

Aziraphale smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, nothing a good nap can’t fix.”

Joanne kept her eyes on the ground. “I guess. But it’s more than that. I’m tired of everything being so difficult all the time. I feel like everything I do is performative, but there’s no one even watching the show. What’s even the point?”

He saw her begin to cry again, and put his arm around her shoulders. “There, there. I promise you there is always a point. It gets better someday.”

“But when?” she mumbled into her hands. “Why can’t ‘someday’ be tomorrow? I need it. I need that miracle.” 

Aziraphale’s eyes lit up at the word. “Well, miracles happen. More often than you think.”

She shook her head. “God, I hope so.”

“Well, for today let’s get you home, alright?” She nodded and stood, leaving cash for the bartender. Aziraphale helped her to the door. When he opened it, the cold night air sobered him almost immediately, but made Joanne seem to shrink a little more into his arm. Scanning the parking lot he asked, “Did you drive here with friends?”

Joanne snorted, stumbling over her feet. “Some friends they are. They’ve all went home with someone new.” She kicked a pebble in frustration. “I need some new friends. Or just one good friend, that’s all.” 

_ Duly noted. _ “I’m sure you’ll find one soon, dear. Here, sit on this bench and I’ll get you a cab home.” She obliged, sinking onto the metal bench of a bus stop. “Now, how far do you live?”

But before he had even finished the question, Joanne was asleep. Aziraphale didn’t know whether to blame the alcohol or his own subconscious angelic influence, but he was grateful for it nonetheless. It meant that he himself could see that she got home safely. 

Kneeling beside her, he put his hand to her head and said, “When you awake in the morning, you will have had a lovely dream about whatever you like best.”

** _But I'm ready, yes, I'm ready for you_ **

** _I'm standing on my own two feet_ **

** _Out of the doorway the bullets rip_ **

** _Repeating to the sound of the beat_ **

“I thought I’d find you here,” Crowley said, stumbling into the bookshop at around three in the morning. He set down two expensive-looking bottles on a table. “I brought more alcohol.”

Aziraphale put down a large stack of books and turned to him, taking in his tousled hair and wrinkled clothing. “Had a successful night did we?”

“Depends on your definition of success.” Crowley fell into an armchair and uncorked a bottle. “I didn’t end up fucking the guy, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “It _ isn’t _ . Thank you so much for sharing.” He turned his attention back to his books and made to resume sorting them when Crowley’s words hit him. “Wait, you _ didn’t _? Wasn’t that the whole point of tonight?”

Crowley shrugged. “I mean that’s how it started, yeah, but plans change.”

“Crowley,” the angel said, “please tell me you did some sort of demonic work and that this evening wasn’t totally wasted by you.”

“Oh yeah, lots of evil.” Crowley summoned a pen and paper and began composing his memo to Hell. “Recounting the Demonic Deeds of the Day. One: Encouraged one human man to steal from authority. Two: Tempted same human man to rearrange letters on signs in front of churches. Results vary from blasphemous to nonsensical due to intoxication. Three: Tempted same human man to commit arson-”

“You did _ what _?” Aziraphale crossed to Crowley and took the bottle from him. 

“Ah relax, all he set on fire was his friend's birth certificate. Just embellishing the story for Head Office.” Crowley snatched the bottle back and took a swig. Glossing over his memo, he decided, “Yeah, this looks good enough,” and sent it to Hell with a snap and a puff of smoke. “So what have you been up to, angel?”

Aziraphale returned to his books. “Well, I’ve been reorganizing. I’m creating a section of books with a focus on queer history right here,” he said, gesturing to the shelves closest to the entrance. “I’ve finished sorting through the historical nonfiction, and now I’m onto poetry, but I haven’t even started on the fiction. Maybe they’ll have to go somewhere else if I don’t have enough room…"

“Aziraphale, please, enough book talk.” Crowley curled into his arm chair. “What are you even doing that for? I thought you already had a sorting system?”

“Well of course I did,” he said, alphabetizing his Walt Whitman collection. “But I think the young people who come in to this shop ought to educate themselves on… you know,” he held up a first-edition copy of _ Song of Myself _for emphasis. “Relevant history.”

Crowley nodded, flipping through a collection of Sappho’s poems. “Yeah, makes sense. This wouldn’t have anything to do with someone you met tonight, would it?”

He turned to Crowley, looking remorseful for a wrong that he could never make right. “Oh, she seemed so lost in the world, poor thing. All she needs is some guidance in the right direction.” 

Crowley miracled two glasses onto the table and began to fill them. “So you miracled yourself a business card and slipped it into her pocket in the hopes she’d pop by one day.” It should’ve been a question, but he knew the answer already. 

Aziraphale paused, “Well yes, actually. How did you-”

“I did the same thing,” Crowley said, and Aziraphale’s face lit up. “Now I know how much you hate customers, but this kid I met is a real bookworm and I thought hey, maybe he’ll find something here he’d really like.” 

“Or someone.” Aziraphale’s eyes practically sparkled at the thought. “Oh Crowley, that’s wonderful! All this young woman needs is a friend, do you think your man would give her a chance?”

Crowley smiled up at his angel, offering him a glass. “I know he will. It’s crazy how these humans find each other.”

“Crazy indeed,” Aziraphale mused. “Almost miraculous.”

** _Another one bites the dust_ **

** _Another one bites the dust_ **

** _And another one gone, and another one gone_ **

** _Another one bites the dust_ **

Within twenty-four hours, Joanne visited the bookshop. She didn’t know what to expect from A. Z. Fell and Co., but she had the feeling that something good would happen there. Upon entering, she was greeted with a pride flag tacked up against a shelf and began to immerse herself in its contents. Within the next fifteen minutes she had started a conversation about Oscar Wilde with the shop’s owner, who was just a little too knowledgeable on his history. Within the week, she was a regular in the shop, often curling up in an armchair with a new biography, sometimes holding a mug of cocoa.

Incidentally, Luke began to visit the shop as well, and became similarly drawn to the section marked “Queer Literature”. He found himself striking up a conversation with a man in dark glasses, who seemed slightly familiar, like a face from an almost-forgotten dream, and who definitely knew too much about Leonardo da Vinci. He also became a regular, enough to notice the large black snake that sometimes slithered through the aisles.

Call it fate, call it coincidence, call it some ethereal and occult intervention, but when the two met, there was no denying that they were destined to be a sort of saving grace for each other. Neither could remember why they were drawn to the shop in the first place, but they agreed that it was their sanctuary when the rest of the world was turned against them.

They didn’t fall in love, they didn’t need to. All they really needed was a real friend.

Unbeknownst to them, a demon sat in the back of the shop, watching an angel write a memo that read, “United a pair of soulmates, potentially saving one life, definitively improving both.”

It was crazy how humans found each other. Almost miraculous.

** _Hey, I'm gonna get you, too_ **

** _Another one bites the dust_ **

Late at night, about a week after they first went to a club, Aziraphale realized that nothing had really gone to plan. “Crowley,” he said, nudging the demon, who was falling asleep on his sofa.

“Hmm? What?”

“I don’t think we really lived up to your expectations of what ‘clubbing’ is.”

Crowley rubbed his eyes blearily. “Why’s that? We went to a club, isn’t that enough?”

“Well, if I remember correctly - and I don’t like to swear but I am quoting you here - you said we’d ‘get completely piss drunk while doing it’, and I don’t think either of us had any more than half a drink.”

Crowley snorted. “I really only said that to get you to come with me. Getting drunk is no fun otherwise.”

Aziraphale softened, remembering how he had this exact thought at the bar. “That’s sweet of you dear. Glad to know you care so much.”

He blushed, “I mean - well I didn’t say that, I mean…” Crowley saw Aziraphale raise his eyebrows. “Okay yeah, I guess I did. You’re fun when you’re drunk.”

“I’m fun all the time!” He protested, and Crowley started to laugh. “I’m a very fun person to be around. Don’t laugh at me, I’m delightful.”

Aziraphale could hardly hear him through his giggles when he said, “I love you, angel, but you’re the opposite of ‘fun all the time’.”

He went silent for just a little too long. “You mean that?”

Crowley worried that he had somehow pushed him too far. “What, that you’re not always fun? Sorry, but-”

“No not that, you just said ‘I love you’.”

Crowley froze. He blinked at Aziraphale. He took a deep breath. “Oh.”

Then at the same time, he said, “Yeah, I do mean it,” just as Aziraphale said, “Because I love you too.”

Both let out a breath they didn’t realize they were holding, then started to laugh again.

“Oh, thank G-, I mean Sa-, shit thank _ you_.”

“I’m just glad you finally said it,” Aziraphale said, “I think it’s taken us both long enough.”

Crowley surprised himself with how surprised he was. “You mean you’ve known all this time and you were just waiting for me to say it?”

“My dear boy,” Aziraphale smiled, just a little patronizing. “I can feel the love pouring out of you like waves. I was just waiting for you to acknowledge it. Wouldn’t want to rush you into it.”

“What ever happened to ‘You go too fast for_ me _?’, huh? That seemed to be your stance twenty years ago.”

Aziraphale cast a wistful look at the door. “I think it’s those humans. They made me realize how important having a companion is in a short life, where people come and go. But here we are, immortal and seemingly unchanging, but still desperately in need of something.” He looked to Crowley. “I think you’re that ‘something’. You make life down here worth living. I love you for that.”

“Gosh, I’m blushing.” He said it as a joke, but he was turning pink. “Those humans really can get to your head, huh?”

"Don't pretend you're not affected by them! I think I've seen you in your snake form more in the past week than I have in the past fifty years."

Crowley shrunk away from him, blushing deeper. "That doesn't mean anything."

"Oh really?" Aziraphale was having too much fun teasing him. "If I had known how much you like being petted and complimented by people, I would have started doing it a long time ago."

"Demons don't get _petted_," Crowley insisted, trying to ignore the way Aziraphale's hand had snuck into his hair, scratching at the base of his skull.

"Maybe you would if you just asked," Aziraphale said, stroking down his neck.

"Please just shut up and kiss me."

Of all the kisses they had shared, they could both agree that this was by far the best. Just a little hesitant, but not embarrassed. Passionate, but not unhinged. And so, so full of love. 

No, demons don't get petted, and they aren't sympathetic, and they don't fall in love with angels.

Most of the time. But life was crazy sometimes.

Crazy, yes. And miraculous.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Leave kudos/comments if you enjoyed (or if you didn't! constructive criticism is good too) <3
> 
> Oh and side note: Heaven is the club where Freddie Mercury met his husband, and is conveniently not far from St. James Park in London. I'm 100% certain Crowley and Aziraphale went there at least once.
> 
> I'm making this a part of a series of one-shots based on Queen songs (I mean, who isn't) and I already have ideas for "Crazy Little Thing Called Love", "'39", "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy" (which I'm required by fandom law to write), and "I Want to Break Free". So please let me know if you want to see those! My motivation is entirely based on feedback fjkdslk. 
> 
> Thanks again for reading :-)


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